


Panorama

by Anesther



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: Character Study, Cussing, F/M, Multi, Other, Suggestive language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-02 12:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10218728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anesther/pseuds/Anesther
Summary: Observations can mean anything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another old thing I did to remember how this type of narrative works; re-edited of mistakes, odd structure and other things.
> 
> Setting: museum  
> Ages: high school  
> POV: first

♢

The field trip is going pleasantly. The teachers had assigned us into several groups, with one instructor given to each. After becoming situated, I look around, remarking the art pieces around me. There are several that are beautiful—I love the ones that depict underwater scenery, those are always wonderful; but I have no interest in the rest of them.

I keep thinking about the end of the school year, where I’ll need to go after it’s all over. I’ve applied to several universities throughout the country and haven’t received a word of any kind. It’s worrying me, which my mother assures me is to be expected—they take a while to respond.

I shouldn’t be thinking about that, since this is a field trip. It's not _meant_ to be relaxing, though I should take the opportunity. But I can’t help except to think about my dream to become a doctor, achieve good in the world. My pastor tells our congregation that it’s important to do unto others as we would like them to do for us. It’s important to show the world that it can be saved from its sins, allowing them to find a glorious purpose if we allow ourselves to become the servants we were called to be.

I always admired the message behind that—that we’re called to do great deeds because of a higher power. It’s the way it should be, and the way it is. My mother attends with me to those meetings, but not all the time. I understand that she is busy working, but it would help increase the integrity of her soul to go more often. Sometimes I worry she’s not as devout a follower as I am, but it’s not good to doubt my mother. I would not be where I am if not for her.

I look up at the ceiling, noting its height before eventually getting a little bored. There’s not a lot to do. My mother said that I should become engaged with things, find other hobbies aside from flipping through my books, but this is not an interest of mine. I glance around, noticing Gev in the other group. I wave my hand. I get no response.

He probably didn’t see me.

Gev is a sweet person, and one of my closest friends. Whenever we sit together at lunch, he always nods politely at me and gives a smile. For the majority of the time we spend together, he’s usually quiet, or engaged in conversation with Fira, another friend his. He is always nice when we talk and super smart. Gev was one of my earliest crushes back when we were both in grade school. Admittedly, he still is. At least in the sense that there’s nothing about him to dislike, so liking him too, in some way, isn’t a crime or anything. Even if he’s not the person I’m interested in.

Wandering with my group, we are allowed to disperse in other directions, as long as we are rather close. I head into the architectural pieces, since that’s where Gev’s group had gone into. Finding him and Fira, in a corner, I begin to make my way over to them—

“Hi Gil!”

Turning around, I notice a girl walking up to me. I’ve talked to her several times.

“Oh, hello, Maggie,” I greet her, smiling. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Field trips are for all the students.”

“Yes, that is very true.”

“What are you up to?”

“Heading over to my friends...” I tell her, stepping away, towards Gev.

“Mind if I tag along?”

I was hoping to just be with them alone but… Maggie isn’t a problem or anything, and is fairly nice. No harm in doing that, when I think about it. “Sure, but what about your group?”

“Eh, nothing going on over there.”

Nodding, I tell her to come with and we make our way to the corner.

⧍

I walk along beside Ava, immediately apathetic with the surroundings. Museums are fine now and then, but it’s not my go-to hangout area. I really hope to go to the mall later today—I found this cute pair of shoes, and a blouse that will go awesomely with my jeans. Might get Ava something too. 

She, at least, appears to be enjoying herself, which is enough for me. It's crazy how I’ve known her since we were little kids, having been in the same orphanage, experienced drafty rooms and crowded spaces together. Then we were adopted by two separate families. Ava left first, and then I got adopted a while later. I hadn’t seen her again until the start of high school. It had been surreal, seeing her after four years had gone by.

She’d become sadder, more into herself. Still incredibly thoughtful to me, but sadder all the same. I try to keep her spirits up as much as possible.

I don’t like her mother at all. Fucking bitch. Even then there was something off about her, I remember. Cold. Scary.

I point out a painting, “Hey Ava, if you look really close, you can find a dick in there.”

Ava snorts, covering her mouth, “Oh my god, Maggie.”

“No really, check it out.” I tease, trailing my finger over where I see the image, “Look!”

Laughing, Ava shakes her head, “You didn’t find any balls though.”

“Oh they’re there,” I tell her, winking. I motion with both hands, drawing out large circles, nodding at her.

Ava takes my wrists in her hands, bringing them even lower, “ _Now_ they’re the right size.”

I crack up, ignoring the adult who tells us to shush. Pretending to rub my face, I flip them off and Ava grins. That’s Ava for you—sweet, but not as innocent as people think.

Wandering around, I look behind me and notice Gil heading in the opposite direction. I gasp, “Ava, there he is!”

Ava turns around, raising a brow, “Gonna go get him?”

“Well, there’s not a lot of opportunities at school—so right now’s my best shot.”

She shrugs, patting my back. “Good luck, Mags.”

“Thanks, hon, be back soon!” I tell her, walking quickly over to him. I’ve liked him for a long time now and I think there might be a chance with him. He's a senior and I'm a sophomore but still. Anything can happen if there's enough persistence.

“Hi Gil!” I call out.

“Oh, hello, Maggie,” he says to me, his eyes a gorgeous, dazzling blue. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Grinning, I answer, “Field trips are for all the students.”

“Yes, that is very true.”

“What are you up to?” I ask, brushing hair behind my ear, hoping that he’s by himself.

“Heading over to my friends.”

Oh, those people over there in the sculpture area. Guess that’s alright—none of the girls are competition. I flutter my lashes, “Mind if I tag along?”

He says, “Sure, but what about your group?”

“Eh, nothing going on over there,” which isn’t entirely false. Ava tends to be quiet when she’s looking at art pieces so she’ll probably enjoy herself a lot better without me. And I mean waaaay more than if I was present.

Smiling at him, we step over to the area with weirder sculptures. Not a fan of them myself, but being with Gil is the good thing. He’s so handsome and chivalrous, not like the other boys I tend to hang around with, or have dated in the past. A bit fucking nuts but hot all the same.

“Hey there!” Gil says to his friends.

Truthfully, they don’t look as happy to see him as he is. It’s pretty obvious--body language says a lot. I don’t care too much to know their names, but they’re a couple, I’m sure.

“Gev, Fira, how are you?” he asks.

The boy—Gev—raises a brow, his smile slightly thin, “Doing alright. Fira and I were about to go to a different spot.”

“Mind if Maggie and I accompany you?”

I give a smile when they both turn to look at me. I don’t know what to make of them. These are the students Gil talks about a lot, but they don’t seem so extraordinary to me. They might’ve known each other back in elementary school then. I eye the girl carefully; lucked out on her liking this other guy instead.

“You’re a sophomore, right?” Fira asks.

“Yep, that’s not a problem, is it?” I fire back.

“Not at all,” Gev answers, with Fira shaking her head. “But we didn’t expect to have people crowding around us.”

“Assigned groups and all,” Fira adds.

“You won’t even know I’m here,” I say, standing closer to Gil.

“Great!” Gil cheers. “Let’s go then.”

I glance over my shoulder, Gev and Fira meeting each other’s gazes. Definitely not how they wanted to spend their time but oh well. Not like they won’t be doing it later at school or something. It’s nice that I was able to sneak off from my group and hang out over here. Ava didn’t object to it, but I could tell she was a little bothered by the idea of me hanging out with them. She never tells me _why_ so I take that as a reason to go. If there’s nothing to explain, no reason to worry about it.

Although, even if she _did_ tell me why, I’d just ignore her. Only have one life after all.

Gil and I make occasional small talk, discussing the paintings that are scattered throughout the building. I don’t like art very much, but the bigger pieces with a lot of colors, showing various backgrounds and filled with details, shapes—those I like. I know they are subscribed different names, according to periods and all that, but fancy terminology isn’t something I am desperately wanting to know. Mostly, if it looks good, I’m for it.

Gil turns his attention to Gev, who had been chatting with Fira. Again, that slight thin smile. I wonder if Gil can even tell when someone doesn’t want to pay him attention. Probably not. He’s cute though not socially skilled, it seems.

Walking along, I notice my actual group to my right. I grin at Ava, when she notices me.

“I’m going to check in with my group for a minute. Maybe a bit longer so no one is suspicious, but I’ll be back soon,” I say to Gil.

“Oh alright, we’re going to be around then,” he informs me.

Dashing over, I slide up next to her, shoving her gently with my shoulder, “Hey.”

⃝

Treading through the museum has been fairly quiet, allowing me to look about without giving much thought to the people around. No one bothers me and I don’t bother them. I remain in the back of the group, perusing through the various pieces. I stop to look at a few that resemble Surrealism, but I’m not sure if that’s what they are. The instructors don’t know specifics; but I’d need to be comfortable asking questions anyhow. They’re interesting to look at nonetheless, making note of the twisted characters in the foreground, or background.

Continuing forward after a few minutes, I glance briefly to the left, and spot Maggie’s dark ringlets. She beams at me, green eyes lighting up. It’s still fairly early in the trip. She speaks a few words to Gil—one of the seniors who are on the trip, and her crush—before jogging to where I am.

“Hey,” she says, nudging me.

“How’s it going over there?” I ask, observing Gil and the teens he’s with.

Huffing, she tosses hair over her shoulder, “Not so good, he’s not paying attention to me,”

“I’m sorry about that…” I tell her, slowly.

There have been a lot—and I mean a _lot—_ of indicators that Gil is gay. But I never have the heart to tell her. One of the few dreams we share is to find love, and it would crush her if she was told that yet another one of her infatuations was not meant to happen. She’s had that fantasy in her head longer than myself, probably. She was always like that, hoping and wishing for a fairy tale ending. Me, I’m lucky someone is aware I _exist_.

Maggie’s beautiful, and smarter than people give her credit for. She’ll be able to get anything she sets her mind to, I’m sure.

She sighs, taking my arm to loop it around hers, placing a manicured hand over my nubbed fingers, “I don’t know what it is, Ava. I keep trying and trying, but nothing seems to be working.”

“It’s his loss, isn’t it?” I ask, hoping I don’t have to divulge my thoughts about how my gaydar goes off every time I’m around him.

“I suppose—I _do_ tell you that all the time. If someone doesn’t like you back, then it’s their loss,” she voices confidently, head held high.

I nod, keeping in step with her. We stop in front of some modern pieces, Maggie narrowing her eyes.

“Yuck, I don’t like the colors too much,” she tells me.

“No?”

“Not really. They’re kinda... everywhere, y’know?”

“Yeah, it’s not appealing to me either.”

Suddenly she hangs her head, “Ava, do you think I’m chasing nothing?”

I turn, watching the self-assured expression crack a little, “What do you mean? About Gil?”

“Yeah, do you think I’m just… being ignorant about his interest in me?”

I know Maggie. She is the type of person who doesn’t take criticism easily, at least from people she doesn’t like or doesn’t care for. She appreciates the honesty of my answers, but she’s more fragile than she likes to admit.

“Do _you_ feel that you’re not getting what you want?” I ask instead.

Pouting, she scoffs, “ _Clearly_ I’m not getting what I want. There’s no hot guy standing next to me waiting for me to blow him.”

“Alright,” I say, tugging her lightly in another direction, “what do you want to do about that, then?”

“I’d like to have Gil fawning over me. But the problem is time _—_ seniors graduate soon and then what? I’ll be back at square one!”

Licking my lips, I grip her hand a bit tighter, “Maybe… maybe it’s not meant to work out?”

She glares at me, “Ava, that’s not funny.”

Quickly, I backtrack, “I don’t mean it to be funny, you know that. I’m just saying that if he’s not giving you the time of day, and since he’s graduating in a couple months, maybe putting your attention to a different guy would be a smart move.”

Mulling over this, she tilts her head at a painting under Abstract Expressionism, the sign says. 

She sneers, “God, this is ugly.”

“Yeah, it is.” A jumbled mess, at best. Usually, I’m not too critical, but some paintings I don’t understand and would appreciate an explanation.

“But you’re right,” she finally mumbles, “maybe I should start opening my options more. It wouldn’t have worked out between us, possibly.”

“That’s a good idea,” I enthuse, patting her hand. “There’s bound to be loads of boys who would like to go out with you. What about that one who plays the guitar?”

“Who?”

“Oh, I don’t know his name, but the cute one—goes around writing songs in the courtyard.”

“I think I know who you’re talking about… Honestly, though, the most he’ll be worth is a fling.”

“He seems to really like you,” I tell her. Whether or not I know his name isn’t the point—I _know_ he likes Maggie. The way he looks at her when she passes by is glaringly obvious. Even though a lot of girls and guys vie for his attention all the time, he'd take himself off the market, as Maggie sometimes says, if she agreed to date him.

“I’m still hoping for Gil to pay attention to me,” she voices, tone determined. Aw fuck. “Don’t get me wrong. I want what I want. But I’m willing to try out your suggestion too and everything. Can never go far without a backup plan.”

“Exactly,” I say, though I’m disappointed, to say the least, that she’s not going to just drop Gil. Guess she’ll have to learn this one on her own.

“Anyway, speaking of Gil, I wanna check how he’s doing—said I would and all.”

“Oh, um, alright,” I say. “You have fun. I’m going to look more around here.”

“Cool!” she chirps, turning around. Then she spins in place, enveloping me into a hug, “Thanks for listening, Ava, you’re a gem.”

I chuckle lightly, “Anytime, Maggie.”

Hurrying away, she eagerly meets up with Gil. Sighing to myself, I walk around one wall, staring at the odd patches of color. I lean in closer, trying to find where the squiggles begin and end. What even _is_ this?

“K-Keep staring like that, maybe l-looking at it cross-eyed will help to make sense o-of the thing.”

I glance up, recognizing the voice, smiling, “Hey!”

⬛

Drowning out the sounds of people nearby, I stride away from the section I was assigned to. No one is going to notice—it’s not as though they bother to keep track of particular students. It’d be much easier to become distracted if I had a joint. For some reason, we’re specifically in the vicinity of Abstract art; only some of the substyles are exceptional, but I haven’t found anything that I care for.

There are a couple of groups dispersed haphazardly in the area. I notice Maggie running off—to find Gil undoubtedly. I’d caught sight of him earlier on the trip and have made sure to avoid him. He’s too aggravating to even bother with.

If Maggie is hurrying away though, it means Ava isn’t far off. Finally.

Turning to where Maggie had been, I see Ava going around a large block stamped in the center of floor, artwork on either side. Making my way over, I find her silently scrunching up her face, glaring at an image.

I manage not to laugh, “K-Keep staring like that, maybe l-looking at it cross-eyed will help to make sense o-of the thing.”

“Hey!” Ava says, looking genuinely happy about my arrival.

Accepting the light flutters in my chest, I step toward her, looking at the painting, “P-Pretty messy isn’t it?”

Nodding, Ava stops hunching over, “I never understood these sorts of paintings. Abstract art is kind of… strange, y’know?”

“You l-like Surrealism just fine,” I say, remembering what we’ve talked about before.

“Oh for sure, those are okay. But stuff like _this_ , what does it even mean?”

“You w-wanna see a _really_ senseless painting?” I ask.

“You bet,” she grins, expression brightening up, the dark circles under her eyes not as prominent. I’ll ask about that later.

Together, we walk away from the throng of students, into one of the less occupied corners. Looking down at her, my tone becomes teasing, “G-Good to know you don’t object to being t-taken from your chaperone.”

“Oh yes, I’m soooo upset that you’ve decided to whisk me away—you’ve relieved me of my boredom, how dare you!” she cries, hand placed despairingly over her forehead.

I snicker, “Y-You have to suffer my company, now and f-for always.”

“Now I’m _really_ doomed,” giggles Ava, standing a bit closer to me, arm brushing against mine. I don’t move, let it linger. Push a little back.

Walking right up to the ghastly thing, I motion to it with a grand wave of my arm, “There it i-is.”

Ava bawks at it, “ _Ew_.”

“Yep, it’s the best painting in the world.”

“It’s just a black square. What… this crap counts as art?” she asks incredulously.

“Glad you f-find it as needless as I do.”

Inching forward, her expression curious, she reads the label to herself before rising back up, turning to me, “The first version was done by Malevich?”

“Y-Yes, it’s in the Tretyakov Gallery. Plenty of p-people have tried to replicate it, for what r-reason I don’t have a fucking clue.”

“It really is only a black square. Nothing too significant about it,” states Ava. “I’m sure back when it came out, it probably represented the conflict of the time period, and it meant something to him; but it doesn’t inspire anything noteworthy for me to feel. It’s kind of ‘meh' to me.”

Nodding, I reply, “Exactly. There i-isn’t much to it at all. Sometimes I f-feel the poor bastard gets criticized too much for the thing, but if you don’t feel s-something for a person or object, t-there’s no point in trying to pretend that you care.”

“Right. Not everyone can be your friend, or close to you, and you might as well let people know. There's ways to be nice about it but it can be exhausting to fake it, I bet.”

“T-Too bad people fear b-bluntness.”

She hums her assent, tilting her head to stare a little longer at the image. She briefly inspects around, then walks towards a smaller picture. She spends only a few seconds to peer at it before returning.

“Do you know where the Impressionist pieces are?” Ava asks, brown eyes peering up at me.

Wordlessly, I turn around, keeping my pace relatively slow for Ava to match. Not that I mind, which is the rare bit—that I _don’t_ mind. She’s one of the few people who don’t bother me. She’s quiet, considerate; beautiful. She’s also got a bit of a temper, which I appreciate—she doesn’t like to be pushed around, she has limits. I can respect people who don’t allow themselves to be used as doormats.

The silence between us is comfortable, as it tends to be, leading her to a couple of depictions lined up on the wall. Ava smiles while we look, brushing a lock of dark blonde hair behind her ear. 

Pleased with having given her what she wanted, I meander over to a few other works. Monet is always good. My sister, Magpie, has a copied image in her room; calms her down, all the soft and light colors. Dreamlike, is how she describes them.

“This one is really pretty,” Ava says.

“Y-Yeah this one is great. But I k-know one you’ll like better.”

She lifts a brow at me, gaze expectant.

Striding over to another wall, I gesture at Monet’s _Poppies_. Ava beams.

“Oh, I love this one!” she exclaims.

“Thought you’d m-m-might.”

“I think I’ve seen this floating on the Internet somewhere?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me, Monet is fairly p-popular but not his name s-so much.”

“Was he not liked during his time either?” she asks me.

I shake my head, “Not a-at the beginning. A critic h-had said that his p-painting didn’t look complete—it only gave the ‘impression’ of a f-f-finished piece, a sketch basically.”

“Oh, so that’s where the term is from,” Ava remarks.

“Pretty m-much; after that, a-anything that resembled Monet meant it was Impressionist.”

Ava smiles at me, stepping closer, “What else can you tell me about it?”

“Van Gogh does Impressionist a-art.”

“Him too?” she asks, paying complete attention to me.

Clearing my throat, I nod, “Y-Y-Yeah, Van Gogh and Monet; there are others, b-but these t-two are well-known for it.  ****Oddly enough, people t-tend to care more for paintings like theirs—which is u-understandable, I do too—but it’s a substyle of all that abstract stuff, which is w-weird as shit.”

“All of them are pretty weird then, right?”

“Of c-course, but take Cubism—Picasso. It’s definitely under the A-Abstract category, but I w-would probably like that better than just splat-t-ters of paint.” I say, encouraged by her question. I never talk as much around others as I do with Ava. It’s easy to share thoughts with her.

“Because it has an actual shape and definition to it, I get that. Otherwise it’s nothing to me, kinda like scribbles.”

“Art is s-subjective but people can be as objective as th-they wanna be with some things. No one h-has to like a certain art piece just because it’s popular or wh-whatever. That’s the p-point of why all these forms and mediums exist.”

“Check out this guy, being all smart!” she compliments, gripping my arm and grinning widely.

"I'm n-not that smart..."

"You are to me," she says, gazing directly into my eyes, adoration on her face.

Despite keeping my expression neutral, I feel a blush creep into my cheeks. Then a smile happens anyway. I rub the back of my head, “T-Thanks…”

She keeps her hold on me.

Weaving through the museum, Ava and I peruse the different artworks and mediums. She asks questions, I attempt to answer accurately.

“What about this one?” inquires Ava.

I shrug, “D-Dunno about this too much.”

“It’s pretty anyway.”

“Yeah, it’s n-not bad.”

Ava presses against my side, hand suddenly on my abdomen. Dragging her fingers up, she looks up at me, voice low, “Got a favorite?”

I stare down at her. Find my throat constricted, wanting her. I sift my fingers through her hair, “Guess.”

⃝

I shudder as his hand travels down the nape of my neck, “ _Poppies._ ”

“Got i-it,” he breathes, leaning down.

Heart thudding, I stand on my tiptoes, gripping his jacket, brushing my mouth over his. I mumble nothings, slightly lightheaded, before whispering, “Too bad there isn’t a closet.”

Odin chuckles, burying his fingers further into my hair, calloused tips massaging my head, “We can a-always go looking for one.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, grinning, “Wouldn’t do us any good, we’d be loud.”

“We’ll be as loud a-as we want Saturday then, Firefly,” he promises.

Giggling, I kiss him on the mouth, “Alright, guess we’ll wait until then. Or not.”

"Or n-not," he repeats, winking.

The two of us turn when we hear the sound of people approaching, his hand continuing to caress my hair. I’d forgotten that we were supposed to be in our groups.

We look at each other and shrug, lacing our fingers. Soon we join the rest of the packs gathered in the middle, teachers calling for their assigned students.

I sigh before addressing him, “On the bus, wanna sit together?”

“Maggie and I sw-switching?”

“Yep, you get to have me on the return trip.” I’m glad he doesn’t mind that we keep couple-y stuff to a minimum around Maggie. It’s a sore spot for her.

“Oh t-thank god, and I won’t b-bore you with talk of boys.”

I lightly smack his arm, “She’s not that bad.”

Odin gives me a deadpan stare.

“Okay, she can get a little carried away,” I admit. Her crushes can become borderline obsessive, which is concerning. Odin won’t ever tell me, or admit it to himself, but he worries about her too on the whole Gil situation. He’s kinder than even he realizes.

Odin looks around the crowd, murmuring to me that Maggie is to the left. I wave at her. She returns the gesture before continuing her conversation with Gil and his group. Odin waits with me, making circular motions on the back of my hand.

“You got e-enough sleep last night?” he asks.

“Yes, I did,” I reply; he’s always worried about me at home, “nothing happened after you dropped me off.”

His hand tightens on mine. I nuzzle my face into his chest, breathing in the scent of smoke and pine on faded leather.

When the teachers tell people, yet again, to get into our groups, Maggie hastily excuses herself, rushing over. Odin rolls his eyes, grumbling.

I smile at him, “Best to check in.”

“Ugh, y-yeah. I’ll s-see you on the bus, Firefly.”

“Alright, babe,” I say, grinning to myself. He gives me a smile back, shoving his hands in his pockets.

There’s not much in my life that I can talk about positively; with Odin, I finally got lucky.

Maggie sidles next to me, “Tall, dark and brooding left, huh?”

“Yeah,” I answer, “thank you for admitting he’s attractive.”

△

“I never said he _wasn’t_ Ava. He _is_ hot, in that rugged kind of way,” I say, waving my hand in dismissal. “I have a type is all.”

I don’t know when they started dating honestly. Well, more like I don’t understand the _why_. They never advertise their PDA in front of me (likely because Ava is considerate of my feelings), but it’s clear that even though I don’t get it, he’s _really_ into her and vice versa.

That’s good.

Odin and I don’t agree on much, but Ava’s happiness is important to both of us.

“I know you have a type,” Ava agrees, lifting a hand and counting off, “hot, suave, talented, pleasant, and a dick that can satisfy all night long.”

I grin at her, lightly bumping my hip against hers in jest, “You know it!”

“Gonna look into other guys besides Gil then?”

I pout, “Aw, Ava, c’mon.”

“Just asking Mags.”

“Why are you so against me liking Gil anyway?”

Ava shrugs, though her mouth twists up, expression bothered, “I really do think you should just keep your options open. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The two of us raise our hands when we hear our names called. The teacher leaves us alone.

“Ava, I appreciate the concern, really, but I’m gonna be fine.”

She nods, though doesn’t appear totally convinced.

“Do you think he won’t be able to satisfy your girl?” I tease, wiggling my eyebrows.

Ava puts her hands up, wiggling her thick ones back. “What can I say, I’m very invested in your love life.”

Shoving her playfully, the two of us line up behind the other students, getting ready to board the bus. When the two of us get to the last step, Ava immediately lightens up when she finds Odin in the back. A slight smile comes onto his face, which never happens. I push aside the slight bitterness in my gut.

“I’m probably going to hang out with the girls,” I say.

“Okay, cool,” Ava replies, taking her place next to Odin.

I look at him, whispering, “No fingering.”

“I make n-no promises,” he plainly answers.

Ava laughs as I shake my head at him, smirking. Fucking nerds…

I pass by Gil, nodding and greeting him before continuing to the far back, where a couple of the girls I chill with have already saved me a seat. As much as I want to pursue what I want, I might give what Ava said some thought. At least for the rest of today.

♢

I’m relieved to not find Maggie sit next to me. I would very much appreciate being alone with my thoughts, and record several of them down in my notebook.

She’s a nice girl but there are times when I’d like to just be.

Gev and Fira are sitting on another bus, plus everyone else. Someone who I don’t know sits next to me, and I angle my body to keep the notebook’s privacy.

I glance up, finding Odin talking to a friend of Maggie’s—Ava, I think her name is.

He traces a finger down her face, and she chuckles quietly.

I open my notebook and jot down the feelings of envy that this action stirs inside me, hoping my God will take this negativity away from me and purge the sinful thought. I can’t sin. It’s wrong.

But… with Odin, it doesn’t feel wrong.


End file.
